


the love cook

by Anonymous



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: AU - no war, Button Popping, Feeding Kink, Fluff, Multi, No Sex, Weight Gain, but a lot of kink
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-26
Updated: 2020-09-26
Packaged: 2021-03-07 19:53:43
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,675
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26663236
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: It is a tradition in Faerghus that the fatter the king, the more prosperous his reign shall be. Dimitri has been on a diet since he was young to fatten him up as much as possible before his graduation from Garreg Mach. The rest of the Blue Lions help - out of patriotic love for their country, of course - and soon enough, everyone gets in on it.Written for the Three Houses kinkmeme.
Relationships: Dimitri Alexandre Blaiddyd & Blue Lions Students, various ships are mentioned
Comments: 1
Kudos: 43
Collections: Anonymous





	the love cook

At first, it was Dimitri and Dedue’s thing; Dedue making Dimitri meals and bringing them to him during training and after class, then Dimitri sitting on a bench or leaning against a wall and eating. Typical fare was sweet bun trios and sauteed jerky; rich or salty or both. The Blue Lions paid no mind to it; the students from other houses thought it was odd, but decided it was best not to question a crown prince. It was Petra, a new recruit to the Blue Lions and quite blunt as a rule, who asked first. 

“His Highness has been on a strict diet for four years now,” Dedue explained as he chopped up scallions. “In Faerghus, a fat ruler is considered to be a good sign for the prosperity of the nation. I believe it has something to do with the harshness of the climate. Dimitri will be the king of Faerghus next year, so he is working hard to meet his people’s expectations.” 

Petra nodded, not quite understanding but by now quite practiced at pretending like she did. “I see. Would you like help?”

Dedue’s knife slowed. “Help with what?”

“With fattening your prince. I can hunt more meat for him, and Annette… well, Annette would no doubt like to help with anything she can.” Petra seemed to be oblivious to the effect her words were having on Dedue, but it was difficult to tell with her sometimes. 

He’d been helping in his own way with Dimitri’s diet ever since he’d been appointed as his retainer all those years ago, but he’d never thought of his job in such terms as those Petra used. That said, he didn’t _entirely_ dislike how they sounded. Fattening - that was what they were doing, was it not? Then why did the word make his heart skip a beat?

He took a deep breath and tried his best to fight a blush as Dimitri came in, fresh from a training session, round cheeks red with exertion. It was hardly the second month of the school year, and he’d already had to go a size up in his school uniform; from the way his pudgy belly was straining at the buttons of his shirt, it looked as if he’d need to head to the tailor’s again sooner rather than later. “It is hot in the kitchen.” Dedue mumbled as an explanation for his flushed cheeks. 

“We made soup!” Petra exclaimed, ladling out a generous bowl for Dimitri. “It is a Fodlan recipe that Dedue showed me. Cheese gratin!”

Dimitri took the bowl gratefully. “Yes, my favorite. Thank you - both of you.” He added hastily, as he realized he’d mostly been addressing Dedue. He sat down at the table and began to eat, oblivious to the two pairs of eyes on him. 

Dedue’s eyes were drawn to Dimitri’s belly as he ate - to monitor the progress he’d made, but also because it was so delightfully round, and just big enough that it jiggled slightly when he moved. With every mouthful of soup it seemed to round out more, though that could be Dedue’s wistful imagination envisioning what Dimitri would look like after a few more months of this diet, a year. He’d acquired quite the capacity after four years of it, and before he knew it he’d finished his bowl of soup. 

He dabbed at his mouth delicately with a napkin. “That was delicious - would it be alright if I had some more?” 

As soon as Dedue opened his mouth to say that Dimitri could have as much as he liked, Petra was thrusting another bowl at him, filled to the brim. “We made many pots. There is enough for everyone to have as much as they like.”

Dimitri exclaimed his thanks and dug in. Dedue tried to shoot Petra a look, but her eyes were fixed on Dimitri - what was she planning? Then Dimitri made a little sigh of pleasure as he sipped his soup, and Dedue decided there were more important things for now.

Dimitri seemed a little shyer as he had his seconds, then his thirds, and kept shooting glances at Petra; Dedue wondered if it would be best to ask her to leave. “Are you hungry?” Petra asked as Dimitri finished his third bowl. Dimitri blushed, looking down at his belly, then at the stack of bowls he’d emptied. He gave his belly an experimental little pat; Dedue absently wondered, face on fire, if a crush-induced heart attack would be what he died of. 

“I could eat more.” Dimitri declared finally, and before he’d finished the sentence Dedue had served him another brimming bowl of cheese gratin. Dimitri eschewed a spoon this time, simply lifting the bowl and gulping the soup down in big mouthfuls. His three previous helpings of salty soup had bloated his belly significantly; it was a miracle that the buttons on his poor, overtaxed shirt didn’t burst off. As he finished his fourth helping with a low moan, Dedue came around the other side of the counter and sat next to him at the table. 

“Dedue… “ Dimitri murmured, “would you care to - _ohh_ \- rub my stomach? I fear I won’t be able to make it up to my room, otherwise.” A soft, self-deprecating chuckle. 

“Of course, Your Highness.” Dedue said softly, hoping Dimitri didn’t notice the way his hands shook as he placed them on his belly. It was no longer soft and pudgy, but round and taut; Dedue was quite practiced at this by now, and knew that Dimitri was too uncomfortable to have his belly pressed on directly. Instead, he gently rubbed slow circles into the sides of his tummy, easing the pressure while not making it any worse. Dimitri rested his head against Dedue’s shoulder, occasionally letting out a soft belch, and excusing himself every time. Dedue looks up at one point for Petra, only to find that she has wisely excused herself.

Later, he would ask her what she was doing in the kitchen that day, and she would smile shyly and explain that it was common to feed someone you intended to court in Brigid. “I thought you were lovers,” she explained. 

Little did either of them know, but Dimitri would go on to acquire many “lovers” of this kind during his time at Garreg Mach. 

/

Progress continued steadily into Dimitri’s fourth month at Garreg Mach, his belly spilling into his lap even on the rare times it was completely empty. He received a steady stream of rich “snacks” that were more like meals from Dedue, and later from Ashe once they became close and he insisted on offering his help. He claimed it was to support the country he loved, but Dedue only had to look at his lovestruck expression whenever Dimitri devoured one of his sweet bun trios to know the truth. Then again, it wasn’t as if he could judge; his motivations were similar. 

Dimitri dutifully consumed every plate put in front of him, determined to become as fat as his citizens wanted him to be; but the fact of the matter remained that he couldn’t actually _taste_ any of it. Ashe asked Sylvain if he knew of any solution, who asked Annette, who declared that she had heard of a potion that restored a sense of taste to people with severe depression, and she knew she’d found the book somewhere in the library… 

Annette had been feeling a little left out of the movement to fatten Dimitri up, and she jumped on this opportunity to make one of their greatest strides yet with gusto. Dedue knew this, and appreciated the thought, but privately doubted that the potion Annette was working on would help if the royal healers had tried everything under the sun.

At last, it was ready, after two weeks’ worth of brewing and stewing and waiting, and Annette presented it to Dimitri with a flourish at one of his nightly enormous feasts. It was near the end of the month, and Dimitri looked like he’d been poured into his clothes; his next appointment with the tailor was in a week, and until then he’d been making do with clothes that were no doubt at least a size too small. 

The potion was a warm orange color, like the stove fire, and bubbled like champagne. Dimitri took it gingerly, and threw it back all in one gulp. A slight cough. “It’s warm - I didn’t expect it to be.”

“Give it a minute to work.” Annette insisted. 

Dimitri began to work his way through a plate of pheasant and eggs in the meantime, as steadily as ever. All the Blue Lions were watching; some subtly, like Felix, others less subtly, like Ashe. Dedue was somewhere in the middle. Or he liked to think he was. 

About halfway through, something shifted in Dimitri’s face. He put down his fork. He looked around in amazement; first at Annette, who was grinning, then at Dedue, then at all the Blue Lions in turn. “I can taste it.” 

Annette nodded vigorously. Dedue couldn’t keep from smiling. 

“I can _taste_ it!” Dimitri couldn’t suppress a childlike giggle as he tried a bite of everything he’d been served, then began to dig in with gusto. Soft, pleasured moans slipped from his lips after every bite, and every time he cleared a plate a new hand appeared to push another forward. He no longer ate like it was a chore, savoring every mouthful. Despite this, his pace was quicker than it had been - in what seemed like no time at all four plates were stacked beside his place at the Blue Lions’ table, cleaned of the last crumb.

No one else had continued to eat their own portions; they all stared dumbstruck at Dimitri, forks frozen in midair above their food. It was Ashe who piped up first; “You can have mine if you like! I’m not super hungry tonight.”

Dimitri accepted it after a number of reassurances that it was, in fact, okay for him to do so, and then everyone else shoved their plates forward, mostly untouched. Even Felix offered his meat pie, refusing to look at anyone. Dimitri accepted them all gratefully, eager to try everything he’d never known the taste of before Annette’s potion. 

Halfway through his seventh helping, he paused to rub the lower half of his belly, looking briefly uncomfortable. His stomach was working hard to digest the volume of food he’d been shoveling into it, and the two sitting immediately to his left and right could hear faint churning noises from it. “Would you like to stop?” Dedue asked softly, even though there was nothing more in the world he wanted than to see Dimitri finish every single one of the other Blue Lions’ dinners. 

Dimitri put a hand to his mouth to muffle a soft hiccup. “I… I want more, but I’m already so full… “ He looked _frustrated_ with himself more than anything, and it made Dedue’s heart melt. He reached his hands beneath the table to rub Dimitri’s belly. 

“M-may I… ?” Ashe asked, already reaching out his hands. Dimitri nodded, and Ashe took the other side. 

Dimitri’s belly no longer grew taut when he stuffed himself like this - there was a layer of squishy fat thick enough to sink one’s fingers into, even when his stomach was near its capacity. The two massaged the lower half of Dimitri’s gut, stimulating his digestion so he could fit in more food. Unable to wait, Dimitri continued to eat as he had his belly rubbed, soft hiccups slipping out as he ate spoonfuls of saghert and cream. He’d finished everyone’s entrees by now; there were three more plates left, all containing rich desserts. 

Diamonds of pale flesh were visible between the buttons of Dimitri’s shirt, and the button on Dimitri’s pants didn’t look like it would last much longer. He finished the saghert and cream, now panting lightly, and reached out for a trio of sweet buns, devouring each in two bites. Dimitri’s expression reminded Dedue of when he was in the throes of battle; determined to win, now that he’d gotten this far. 

He reached out for the last plate, which was actually a bowl - a generous bowl of peach sorbet, now slightly melted. He gulped down the semi-liquid as quick as he could, before his stomach could register that it couldn’t possibly fit any more, and with an audible _snap_ , the button on his pants finally gave up the fight, his enormous stuffed belly plopping into his lap. The bottom few buttons on his shirt followed suit, popping off with a series of soft _plinks_. There was an angry red mark across the middle of his belly where the waistband had been digging into his flesh.

Dimitri belched contentedly, his mind so foggy with food that he didn’t quite realize what had happened until he reached out a hand to pat his belly and realized it wasn’t covered by anything. His face flushed a brilliant red. 

“Would you like me to move up your appointment with the tailor, Your Highness?” Dedue asked, smiling softly. Annette giggled, then immediately slapped her hands over her mouth. Sylvain came over to their side of the table and reached around to give Dimitri’s belly a squeeze.

“It’s just like when we were kids.” He said. “This used to happen all the time. Want help going up to your room, Dimitri?” 

Dimitri attempted to haul himself to his feet and quickly gave up, panting. “I… yes, I would like that.” 

Dedue and Sylvain each put an arm under Dimitri’s, getting him up with no small effort; Dimitri was a big boy even without enough food for eight people weighing him down. Dimitri held his belly in both hands, giving it support as he waddled up the stairs to bed with Dedue and Sylvain’s support. Dedue prepared a pot of chamomile tea, putting extra sugar and cream in the cup he offered Dimitri. Dimitri took it gratefully, sipping slowly as he rubbed slow circles over the center of his belly. He yawned enormously, fighting to keep his eyes open as his food coma settled into his bones.

Dedue tucked him gently into bed and was preparing to head to his own bed when Dimitri spoke up. “Dedue… “ Dimitri mumbled.

“Yes, Your Highness?” He turned back to face Dimitri, who was practically already asleep.

“Thank you.” Dimitri murmured. “For everything.” Then he dropped off to sleep, his belly rising and falling with each deep breath. 

Dedue smiled tenderly and headed back to his room. 

/

“Ah!” Ferdinand stretched in his seat, his shirt riding up on the curve of the round little beginner’s belly he’d acquired. “That was a fantastic tea service, Lorenz.” Ferdinand patted his belly contentedly.

“You are too kind, Ferdinand.” Lorenz sipped his rose petal tea. Two dozen cucumber sandwiches and just as many little cakes, and one mustn't forget the charcuterie platter. Most of which - alright, the vast majority of which - had wound up in Ferdinand’s tummy. “Would you like to take a turn around the gardens?”

“Ah, no. Not just yet, anyways.” Ferdinand blushed. “I need a moment or two to digest all of that wonderful food.”

“I understand.” Lorenz said, trying to keep his tone as neutral as possible. He was opposed to following trends for the sake of them, but he did enjoy feeding up the apple of his eye. 

It had started when he’d found Ferdinand close to making himself sick in the dining hall on saghert and cream. He’d asked what he was doing, and Ferdinand explained that he’d learned of a Faerghus tradition where the fatter a ruler was, the more prosperous their reign would be. He’d seen Dimitri in the dining hall gorging himself, and he just _knew_ \- here he blushed - that the tradition had some fact to it, and if he wanted to be a good Prime Minister to the Adrestian Empire, he ought to put on some weight. 

So now Lorenz ordered quite a bit more food for their afternoon tea parties, and Ferdinand stuffed himself with the vast majority of it. Lorenz got to watch, and everyone won. Ferdinand shifted uncomfortably in his seat. “Are you alright?” Lorenz asked, putting down his teacup. 

Ferdinand opened his mouth to speak but belched instead, and put a hand to his mouth. “Excuse me. I… something must not have agreed with me. Would you…. “ He shut his mouth and looked down at his lap. His belly wasn’t encroaching on it yet, but it likely would soon if he kept eating like this. The thought sent a shiver down Lorenz’s spine.

“Would I what?” Lorenz asked gently.

“My stomach aches,” Ferdinand mumbled, “and I have seen others who follow this tradition… well, to soothe the stomach after… “

Lorenz assumed he was talking about Dimitri and Dedue, but many other couples at Garreg Mach had started doing the same thing. He’d seen Caspar training, and he’d put on a little gut that jiggled whenever he threw a punch; based on Linhardt’s smirk as he watched, he was the culprit. Leonie and Hilda had both taken to giving Marianne gifts of food, and it had begun to show on her formerly rail-thin figure. Those were only the people he knew were doing it; enough people had begun to stuff their partners that the dining hall was having to put in extra orders of food just to feed everyone. He knew what Ferdinand was talking about, had seen others do it in the dining hall and by the fishing pond and in restaurants in town. 

“Do you want me to massage your stomach, Ferdinand?” Lorenz asked gently, lowering his voice in case anyone came by, though he doubted they would care. 

Ferdinand nodded. “Yes. That would be nice.”

Lorenz got up and dragged his chair over to Ferdinand’s side of the table, so it looked from afar like they were on a loveseat. He placed a hand on Ferdinand’s round belly and began to rub in slow circles, easing the pressure on the other boy’s stuffed stomach. He moaned softly in pleasure, and Lorenz desperately hoped any passers-by didn’t get the idea they were doing something untoward. 

“Ooh - yes, right there.” Ferdinand took Lorenz’s wrist and held his hand at the crest of his belly, where Lorenz obediently began to rub. “Oh, that’s good - _hic_ \- that’s very good.” 

They continued like this for a while, Ferdinand’s eyes drifting shut as his discomfort faded and he began to feel sleepy. “I wonder - _ooohhurrp_ \- I wonder what my father will have to say about this.”

Lorenz laughed at the very idea. “It isn’t as if he has any room to judge.” 

Ferdinand smiled. “Yes, of course.” He turned to Lorenz, shooting a glance down at the crescent of flesh his too-small shirt revealed. Their faces were hardly inches apart. “I daresay I’ll have to head to the tailor’s sometime soon. Would you care to come with me?”

Lorenz leaned forward and pressed a kiss to Ferdinand’s lips; he could still taste the remnants of Ferdinand’s enormous meal. It was a chaste kiss, only lasting a couple seconds, but it felt like an eternity had passed when Lorenz pulled away. Ferdinand’s eyes shone, and Lorenz briefly worried he’d gone too far, that he’d ruined their friendship - 

“Is that a yes?” Ferdinand asked.

Lorenz laughed. “Yes, it is.”

They continued to cuddle like that for the rest of the afternoon, fantasizing about the meals Ferdinand would eat to burst out of his next set of clothes. 

/

Graduation was the same as it was in years past, though the average size of the students’ - and the faculty’s - dress uniforms had gone up. The crowd erupted in whispers when Archbishop Rhea took the stage, looking quite a bit bigger than she had at the start of the year, until a not-quite-as-plump-but-getting-there Seteth shot them all a glare no less fierce for his thickening middle. 

It seemed that every other student whose name was called by the Archbishop waddled up to the stage with a jiggling belly, plump thighs, or both, or both and then some. Marianne walked up with a fuller bosom and a slight little belly; Ferdinand’s belly dribbled into his lap when he sat down at the end of his walk; Caspar had grown wider than he was tall, though admittedly that wasn’t much of a feat; but Dimitri topped them all, his empty belly bigger than all of theirs stuffed to the brim. Even through his graduation gown, one could see the outline of his round gut. The Archbishop gave him his diploma, and when he smiled there were the beginnings of a double chin. The student body watched him waddle across the stage with a mix of envy and lust. 

At the after-party, there were five tables of food, all of which had been devoured by the halfway point of the festivities. Dimitri and Caspar each demolished half a table all by themselves. Ferdinand tried his best to keep up but gave up when he was so stuffed he could hardly breathe. Marianne contented herself sitting in the corner, being fed cake by Leonie and Hilda. 

The following day, after all their things had been packed and Dimitri and Dedue stood waiting for the carriage that would take them home to Fhirdiad, Dimitri couldn’t stop looking at himself in the reflection of the windows, smoothing his hands down his belly and his sides. “Is something the matter, Your Highness?”

Dimitri laughed, embarrassed at being caught. “Ah - no, not really. It’s just… what if all the work we’ve done isn’t enough?”

“There are several months until your coronation yet. With access to the royal kitchens, there is no doubt in my mind you will get much bigger still.” Dedue chanced a look up and down Dimitri’s new, soft body, and envisioned how much softer he would be by the time they placed a crown on his head.

Dimitri smiled. “I’m excited. Are you?”

“Very much so.”


End file.
